


The Bet

by ras_elased



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-02
Updated: 2008-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-11 13:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ras_elased/pseuds/ras_elased





	The Bet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [melagan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melagan/gifts).



  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

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[fandom: spn](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/fandom%3A%20spn), [genre: prompt/challenge response](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20prompt%2Fchallenge%20response), [genre: pwp](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20pwp), [pairing: sam/dean](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/pairing%3A%20sam%2Fdean), [rating: nc-17](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/rating%3A%20nc-17)  
  
  
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It's [](http://melagan.livejournal.com/profile)[**melagan**](http://melagan.livejournal.com/)'s birthday today, so I wrote her porn. And you all get to share her present! Lucky yous! ;)

Title: The Bet  
Rating: NC-17  
Word count: 860  


  
"Oh, fuck," Dean moaned, panting. "You bastard."

Sam hummed smugly around Dean's cock, doing that little tongue flick thing again. Dean threw his head back and groaned, fisting his hands at his sides so he wouldn't touch. Sam sucked him like a fucking _hoover,_ throwing his whole body into it with wild abandon, bobbing his head at an almost frantic pace and making incredible, needy little whimpers each time Dean hit the back of his throat. Dean felt like he was going to come any second, and his thighs quivered with the barely restrained need to just thrust up into Sammy's hot, willing mouth. He wouldn't last long at this rate.

Sam was spread out between Dean's legs, wearing jeans and nothing else. Their growing pile of laundry was becoming a problem, but Dean couldn't bring himself to feel bad about the fact that Sam didn't have any clean boxers if it meant Sam had to go commando. Sam's jeans were still undone from when Dean had sucked him off earlier, cock hanging between the parted folds of denim. When Sam angled his hips just right, the loose waistband slipped further down past his hips, and Dean got a look at the top curve of Sam's ass peeking above his jeans, taunting him. Fucker was playing dirty.

Then Sam slipped two fingers into his mouth alongside Dean's cock, tongue licking around them and lapping at Dean's wet, throbbing cock, and _holy fuck._ Dean's skin was on fire, and there was a decided lack of oxygen in the room if his short, tight breaths were anything to go by. Sam trailed his dripping fingers over Dean's balls, back to his entrance, then pushed inside. Dean's entire body shuddered with the need for release, so close he could practically taste it. Dean felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, his balls draw up tight, but he wouldn't come, he _couldn't_, not yet, he had to hold on just a little longer—

Sam sucked Dean down and held him in the back of his throat, swallowing once as he crooked his fingers just right, and that was _it_. Dean's hips arched sharply off the bed and he came with a shout. "_Sonuvabitch!_" he cursed, spilling down Sam's throat.

Sam pulled off Dean's cock with a wet slurp, absently licking Dean's come from the corner of his mouth as he checked his wristwatch. "Ha!" he cheered, pink mouth stretching into a smug smile. "Three minutes and twenty seven seconds. That's less than half your time. I win!"

_Dammit,_ Dean thought, trying to calm his heaving lungs. Every nerve ending still hummed with the after effects of his orgasm, but he leveled the best glare he could muster at Sam's self-satisfied grin. "Fucker," Dean said, though his brain was still struggling to communicate with the rest of his body so it came out as more of a slurred, "Fuhgr." Dean licked his lips and tried again. "Y'cheated," he managed.

Sam's grin fell and his eyes widened indignantly. "What? I didn't cheat!"

"Yes, y'did," Dean slurred. "I call Do Over."

"Dean, don't be an ass. How the hell could I have cheated?"

Dean coordinated enough muscles to lazily raise one finger. "First off, I was already halfway there when you started." Another finger joined the first. "And second, you used fingers." Dean wiggled both fingers back and forth to emphasize the point.

Sam crossed his arms over his bare chest, apparently unaware of the way it made the muscles in his arms and chest bunch and flex. Dean kinda wanted to lick them. "So? _You_ used fingers," he frowned petulantly.

"Yeah, but I didn't put 'em _in_," Dean said, making a lewd gesture. "Doesn't count," he smirked. Dean had resorted to dragging his fingers over Sam's entrance until Sam was choking back whines, faint brushes and flicks just like Dean knew Sam liked. But Dean also knew he'd get away with it because for that to count, Sam would have to admit that he _liked_ having Dean tease him.

Sam scowled, bitchface firmly in place. He still had a little of Dean's come on the corner of his mouth. Dean decided not to tell him and see how long it took him to notice. With any luck, it would still be there tomorrow when they went for breakfast, and Dean could point it out in front of the waitress. "Fine," Sam conceded, reaching for the waistband of his jeans with a frustrated growl. "Rematch. But I get to go first again. I'm not letting your shitty recovery time damage my record."

Dean glared. "I do not have shitty recovery time."

"Whatever you say, Old Man," Sam said, tugging his jeans down and straddling Dean's chest. The tip of his cock brushed over Dean's bottom lip. "And no fingers this time."

Dean leered, mouth already watering as he said, "Maybe you should tie my hands up. Y'know, just to be sure."

In the end, Dean wound up doing Sam's laundry for a month, but he didn't really mind. Turning all of Sam's boxers pink in the wash was just a bonus.

_   
**Happy Birthday Melagan!**   
_


End file.
